I Want All That is Not Mine
by coinoperatedbecca
Summary: [Complete][AU]. June 1914. The month Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, and the month he first met her.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Now that I'm approximately halfway done my thesis (YAY) I figured it wouldn't be too harmful to post this, haha. I've had this idea in my head for quite some time, but it's taken me a while to actually execute it (so it might not flow as smoothly as I wanted it to). This is something random that popped into my head during my commute to work one morning, and ever since then I've wanted to explore this. My updating will probably be sporadic because I still have a bunch of school obligations, but writing these stories definitely keeps me from feeling burnout from school by focusing on something else, so I decided to just go for it and post it. This'll be a short little number, and the rest of the chapters will have regular dialogue (I just formatted this first chapter the way it is because these are kind of like flashbacks). I hope this isn't too bizarre!

-o-o-o-

June 1914. The month Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, and the month he first met _her_.

He wasn't quite sure what it was about her that attracted his gaze. Perhaps it was her long mane of strawberry-blonde curls, framing her head like some frizzy halo. Or, maybe it was the fact that her dress was short, short enough to make his sister Alexandra nearly fall over of a heart attack. However, it also could've been the fact that she was smoking cigarettes and drinking bourbon like she was one of the men in the room, rather than simply sitting meekly on the other couch with the other ladies who were invited.

It also could have quite well been that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Compared to the other girls in the room, she wasn't quite the prettiest. Maybe she would have been if she had cleaned up the old makeup that rested under her eyes, brushed her hair and didn't wear such bright lipstick. Immediately, she reminded him of Caroline and how she'd make her makeup extra dramatic and wear the most provocative clothing just to get on Alexandra's nerves. It had been nearly a year since he'd seen Caroline, his favorite sister, and so this woman reminded him of home.

It was his fifth summer in Boston, his fifth summer away from the sweltering heat of the south and his fifth summer away from Alexandra's domineering watch. He was nearly done medical school now, he just needed to complete a residency and some other mundane requirements and then he'd officially be Doctor John Hale Finch.

He reckoned he would have been done earlier, if he hadn't taken so much time before enrolling in school to actually decide what he wanted to do. All along, his father had wanted him to be a doctor, or a lawyer like his older brother, but Jack just couldn't commit. He couldn't commit to anything, really. Part of him felt guilty for taking so long, as his older brother took full responsibility for paying his rather pricey tuition in Boston. Yet, another part of him just wanted to stop and pack everything up and leave.

 _That's_ what she reminded him of. For some reason when he looked at her, he saw a wanderer just like himself. Someone who'd be willing to pack up everything and leave, going wherever she wanted whenever she wanted.

She had noticed him staring at him, and rolled her eyes. Quickly, he poured himself a glass of scotch and made his way to her. She was alone, so he reckoned it wouldn't be difficult to catch a conversation with her.

 _I'm Jack Finch_. He had said on that first encounter. She looked at him as if there was something strange growing from his forehead.

 _That's nice_. She had responded, taking a drag from her cigarette. He noticed the top of it was dyed a strange shade of red from her lipstick.

Maybe this was why she was alone, he realized. But, after what seemed to be hours of her teasing him and him not relenting, he finally got her name. Jean. Jean Graham from Montgomery, Alabama. He told her he was from Maycomb, a small town not _too_ far from where she was from, but she made it clear she didn't seem to care.

 _Who's your boyfriend?_ He had asked, giving her a curious look. For what seemed to be the thirtieth time during their short conversation, she rolled her eyes again.

 _Why do you care?_ She asked mockingly, taking a swig of bourbon as if it were water.

He cared because he wanted her. She was different than all of the southern belles that Alexandra attempted to set him up with year after year in Alabama, and she was far different than the straight-laced ladies that occupied his usual hangouts in Boston. Unlike all of those girls, she didn't seem to care what anyone thought of her and that seemed to _free_ her. It was that first time he met her that he realized a liberated woman was the best type of woman to be around.

 _I'm here with my brother_ , she admitted after fifteen minutes of Jack prodding her. Instantaneously, he felt relief—he didn't need to take her away from anyone.

 _He mustn't like seein' you this way_ , Jack remarked, giving her a look that reminded him of something Alexandra would do (which gave him instant embarrassment).

 _He doesn't tell daddy how I act, and I don't tell daddy he's not interested in ladies_ , she whispered, giving him a cheeky wink. Bizarrely, Jack observed how strangely refreshing it was to see a woman so outwardly be herself.

And that only made him want her more.

Drunkenly, he had kissed her that night. She smelled spicy and tasted of bourbon and her red lipstick smeared itself onto his own lips. He found himself wanting _more_ , just wanting to take her and have her in his life forever.

But, shortly after he kissed her, she left. He felt his heart beating so fast he could hardly keep calm—he most certainly couldn't be in love with her, not after knowing her for such a short time, but damn did he _want_ her.

 _When will I see you again?_ He had asked, hoping that she was feeling just as he was.

But instead, she had shrugged. _Beats me_ , she said, rolling her eyes, those brisk two words being her form of goodbye.

-o-o-o-

The second time he saw her was the following year—July of 1915. He was now Dr. John Hale Finch. He remained in Boston, still working at the hospital he had done his coursework at, but he desperately wanted to leave. If Europe hadn't been at war, perhaps he would've gone there. He would've shaped a new persona for himself and could've convinced everyone he met that he was someone entirely different than who he really was.

Yet, _she_ would still be burned in his mind.

When a year passed and he still hadn't seen her, he couldn't help but to feel discouraged. He had probably meant nothing to her, he thought to himself, and she was probably in Montgomery courting someone or getting ready to be married. Every time he thought this, however, he remembered how she was like and how she probably wasn't committed to anyone or anything.

And then, he saw her.

He had been dragged out by a friend to go to a party being held by some person Jack swore he had never met before. Initially, he didn't want to go. He found these things too crowded and too boring, full of small talk and names he'd surely forget by the next morning. But, once he saw that glimmer of strawberry-blonde hair, he immediately was thankful for his buddy's insistence.

Her hair was longer this time, and more contained (though it still resembled some sort of mane). Her dress was still short and her makeup just as dark as it was the night her first met her. His face lit up when he saw her, but she seemed indifferent.

That was, until she approached _him_.

 _It ain't polite to stare,_ she said cheekily, her scowl growing deeper with each word she said.

 _Maybe if you weren't such a mess I wouldn't be forced to look at you._ He had replied sarcastically, silently quite proud of himself for thinking of such a remark so quickly.

She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms. _I recognize that look,_ she told him. _You're smitten._

 _You're quite full of yourself, ma'am_.

 _You're quite bad at hidin' your feelin's_.

And that was the night he took her to bed.

He could still remember vividly just how _soft_ she was, both literally and figuratively. It was as though her harsh demeanor melted away and she transformed into something gentler than she actually was. He knew that there was a strong possibility that she was doing this for fun, using him as another plaything of hers while the entire time he was certain that he was steadily falling in love with her.

Afterwards, they smoked a cigarette together before she disappeared once again.

-o-o-o-

He had to wait over eight months to see her again. In the time that had passed since that previous July until that March, she had settled into a permanent home in the back of his mind. He constantly wondered what she was doing, who she was with, and if she ever thought of him like he thought of her. She drove him crazy, making him antsy with paranoia and even full of humiliation. If she had any of the same feelings he had, she sure was good at hiding them. One side of her was cold and sarcastic, but now that he had gotten to know the softer, _nicer_ version of her, he found that he was in love with every aspect of her—she kept him on his toes.

The third time he saw her was March of 1916. He had been residing in Finch's Landing with Alexandra since that previous December, and when an old friend of his invited him to Montgomery for a party, he couldn't help but to jump at the opportunity to leave Alexandra's condescending gaze. It had been almost four months since he returned home, deciding that the north was no longer suited to his needs and he still didn't have a job, causing his life with his sister to be tense and downright miserable.

She had cut her hair short, causing her curls to bounce above her shoulders, making her look older. She was smoking a cigarette and chatting with a young man. Her presence had taken him off guard. Of course he knew that this is where she lived, but he wasn't expecting to see her _there_. Almost instantly, his body surged with jealousy as he watched her toss her head back with laughter, her curls bobbing around her head. She seemed less hard here, more animated than he had ever seen her. This was her element, he realized. In Montgomery she probably ruled these parties, able to let her guard down and not be the ice queen she usually had been around him.

When their eyes first met, she didn't acknowledge him. In the back of his mind he thought that maybe she wouldn't talk to him all night, would pretend as if she didn't know him and go about her usual business. Yet, he found himself staying in the same spot for _hours_ , making his presence known to her.

 _The south don't suit you well_. She finally said as she approached him. This was the first time he hadn't seen her in the summer, and it wasn't until that moment had he realized how much time she must've spent in the sun during the summer. Her skin was paler, her hair a shade darker—she almost looked like a different person. She looked _older_. _You look miserable_ , she added, a smirk growing on her face.

 _You look quite happy_. He remarked, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt.

She scowled. _You look a fool_. She said curtly, crossing her arms and confirming the fact that Jack had been another thing to keep her occupied for a temporary amount of time.

Maybe it was because he could _never_ be mad at her, or maybe it was the fact that she was so irritated at him it was actually attractive, but the two of them found themselves in bed with each other again that night. It was different this time, though. Since she was at home, in a party full of people she had grown up with, she was cautious and quick—terrified at the prospect of being caught. He didn't care, though, at least he had her, and at least he could pretend that she was his.

 _I love you_ , he had told her when they finished. _Jean_ —

 _I know_. She replied lazily, sighing.

 _Is that all—_ he began before she interrupted him.

 _Yes_.

He couldn't help but to feel crushed.

-o-o-o-

It had been two years since he had seen her. The year was 1918, and America was now entangled in the war that had been ravaging Europe. While he had been able to avoid it, he slowly stood witness as old friends and men he worked with were shipped off, some likely to meet their fates within the trenches. Instead, he had moved to Nashville and started a medical practice and grew comfortable in the mundane routine that became his life.

In December he found himself home for Christmas, and despite the fact that Alexandra was not _as_ condescending as she usually was about the way Jack lived his life, he still found himself miserable.

Deep down, he knew it was because _she_ wasn't in his life anymore.

When he moved to Nashville, he no longer had close connections to those he went to school with in Boston or his pals back in Alabama, virtually cutting off all contact to her. The less time he spent at home, however, the more he wanted her (perhaps because he knew that he'd never have her at this point). He attempted to fill the void she left through women he met in Nashville, but he found himself longing for her strawberry blonde hair and curt personality.

That's why he should have been relieved when he saw her again, nearly two years after that party in Montgomery, but instead he felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

She had arrived to the Landing on the arm of his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So, me updating two days in a row is not going to be a regular thing! This chapter just came very easily because it's more of a transition one, and even though I have a _vague_ idea of what's going to happen, I don't have much of a plan for this—so I'll probably fall back into the pattern of my erratic updating schedule. Also, if anyone seems too OOC, I deeply apologize, I'm still trying to find my footing with this.

-o-o-o-

The look of sheer mortification that quickly came across Jean's face as she entered the room was enough to tell Jack she had certainly not expected to see _him_ there, which caused him to feel an odd mixture of anger and shame that was not familiar to him. Again, she looked older, more graceful even. Her once-wild hair was now contained in loose ringlets that framed her face, her makeup was not as dark as it usually had been and her dress hit right below her knees. Almost as if he was forgetting that Atticus was his brother, Jack greedily wondered if _he_ had ever seen Jean the same way Jack had. Though their meetings certainly were not sacred, he couldn't help but to feel a strange twinge of satisfaction at the fact Atticus may not have seen what Jack had seen.

"Brother," Atticus said happily as he crossed the room to hug his brother while Jean stood petrified in what seemed to him to be sheer terror. "It looks as though Nashville is doing you good."

His eyes instantly went to _her_ and he knew it made her uncomfortable because of the way she quickly shifted on her feet, averting her gaze to a portrait that hung on the wall. A warm smile grew on Atticus' face as he looked at her. "Jack, this is Jean," he said, not knowing of the sticky past between the two of them. There was a gleam in Atticus' eyes that was unfamiliar to Jack. "I've been courting her for quite some time," he stated matter-of-factly, a small smile on his face.

For a moment, Jack remained silent, though all he really wanted to do was scream. How was it that he had spent the past four years wanting her, dreaming about her, _loving_ her and his damn brother was the one who got her? It didn't seem right. It didn't seem fair.

If he really wanted to embarrass himself and his family, he could have lashed out. Could have laid everything right there on the table, humiliating her and possibly ruining whatever she and his brother had. He could've been cruel, calling her names and portraying her to be trash. He could've broken her heart like he broke his.

But then, he thought of his brother.

His brother who worked harder than he needed to just so Jack could attend one of the finest schools in Boston. His brother who had inherited the Landing when their father died, and could have sold it to make a profit for himself, but instead _gave_ it to Alexandra so that she could remain comfortable. His brother who kept Caroline out of trouble by also funding for her to go to secretarial school in Mississippi. His brother who acted more like a father to his siblings than their actual father was.

While it would have made Jack feel incredibly good to lash out, to throw a tantrum like a child, he thought of what that would do to Atticus. Of course he'd seen his brother happy before, but the way he looked at Jean reminded Jack of what he felt on the inside and he found that he couldn't do what he wanted to. It just wasn't _fair_.

"Hello," Jack said curtly, flashing Jean a fake smile. It was as if she had been holding her breath, waiting for him to say something that would ruin her, because it was almost as if she deflated with his simple greeting.

"Pleasure," she responded, her voice stiff.

This was going to be a very miserable night indeed.

-o-o-o-

After that mortifying experience, Jack sequestered himself into his father's old study. It was the one place in the Landing that still brought him comfort after all these years, mainly because it was the one room Alexandra didn't bother messing in once the Landing became hers. While it no longer had the thick smell of cigars that Jack most associated with Jeremy Finch, its new musty scent still made him feel at home. For a while he examined the books, their old leather spines fading with age and dust, and decided to pour himself a glass of scotch from a bottle that had probably not been opened in nearly ten years.

He almost immediately regretted drinking it. The warm liquid burned his throat as he swallowed it, causing him to choke. Alexandra certainly wouldn't be pleased to see this—not only did she find _everything_ that Jack did imperfect, but she generally looked at drinking as though it was a shameful activity.

The door slowly creaked open, and Jack quickly hid the scotch and glass, fully expecting Alexandra to come bursting through the doorframe.

Instead, it was _her_.

Again, she looked mortified. Her pale cheeks flushed pink as she stood there deciding whether or not to enter. Remaining in the doorway, she embarrassedly said: "I was looking for the washroom."

"This obviously isn't it."

She exhaled sharply, looking quite taken aback. "Listen," she said firmly, sliding into the room and closing the door behind her. "I didn't know—"

"Didn't know what?" He interrupted, crossing his arms. "Didn't know you were _courting_ my brother while I—"

She was beginning to look angry. "While you were _what_?" She nearly hissed. "It's not as if—"

"I told you I loved you—"

"I know that!"

"And did that mean anything—"

"No!" She replied, her voice slightly higher in pitch. While her eyes still shone with anger, it was evident by the way her shoulders slumped that she had slight feelings of regret about what she had said.

"Well, that's nice to know."

"I didn't," she began, cutting herself off to sigh and look around the room. "Jack, I was a _child_ —"

"Obviously," He chided. "Though you still look like one next to him, he's an old man next to y—"

"He's your _brother_ ," she said. "You're talkin' like he's trash. He doesn't know."

"Ah, you've hidden your wild ways—"

"He knows I've never been a lady," she said heatedly before stopping herself. "This is none of your business!"

"If that's what you think." He said coolly.

She inhaled deeply. "I don't have time to discuss this now." She glowered. "Your sister already hates me, so God knows what she's thinkin' about me takin' so long."

And with that, she quickly departed, leaving Jack angrier than anything.

-o-o-o-

All through dinner, Jack found himself in desperate need for a cigarette. He found that the old scotch he'd been sipping was not enough to quell the rage that steadily grew within him. However, he did get a slight satisfaction watching Alexandra interrogate her new dinner guest.

"Now, how did you meet Atticus?"

"My father's the judge for Montgomery and the two of them met once Atticus became a part of the legislature," Jean responded. Her voice sounded calmer and smoother than it had been when she was in the study with Jack, making him furious that she was able to go along unaffected so quickly. "I met him when my daddy invited him over for supper."

"I'm sure your mother must be glad you've found yourself a lawyer like your father," Alexandra remarked as she put larger-than-normal portions on Jean's plate. Alexandra always did this to her guests as a test to see if they would dare to eat all of it. Despite how good Alexandra's cooking was, it was nearly impossible to eat all of the servings, which was quite insulting to Alexandra. Jack could tell his oldest sister was weary of Jean, which made him feel as though she was unknowingly on his side.

"She's dead, actually," Jean replied bluntly. "She had a heart attack when I was thirteen."

"That's a shame," Alexandra responded in an attempt to look sympathetic. From the corner of his eye, Jack could see Atticus glancing at his sister.

"I suppose it is," Jean replied. "We were able to pick ourselves up from it, though."

"Who's we?" Alexandra asked as Atticus' gaze grew stronger.

"My daddy and my brothers and I." Jean stated matter-of-factly.

"Are your brothers lawyers as well?"

"They're currently risking getting their limbs blown off in the trenches of Europe."

"That's hardly a way to speak about young men defending our country!" Alexandra responded, clearly appalled.

"In my opinion," Jean said confidently. "This entire war is an awful waste of time."

It was as if the entire room went still. Nobody dared to pick up their silverware and instead all of the attention was brought to Jean and Alexandra. Jimmy, Alexandra's husband, looked as if he was going to say something, but the man was so apathetic that Jack would be downright surprised if that actually happened.

"Why's that?" Alexandra asked, sneering at the other woman.

Jack could tell that Jean was trying her hardest not to roll her eyes at Alexandra. From the way she suddenly sat up rigidly straight and attempted to soften her gaze indicated to Jack that she was trying her best not to mess this up more than she already was. Jean cleared her throat. "Well," she began, softening her tone and _trying_ to sound less self-assured. "I believe the way that everyone's portrayin' this war to be is downright messin' up reality," she said, deliberately picking each of her words. "This won't solve the world's problems, it'll only add to it. These things cost money and lives—"

"I don't think that's anything for a young lady to be concerned about," Alexandra interrupted, her scowl deepening. If there was anything Jack's sister hated, it was women involving themselves in things that were typically left for men.

"But I think it is," Jean said, her voice growing firm once more. "Right now the only people makin' decisions are white men, and if America wants to be as _representative_ as it says it is, I think it should better include the voices of the women and Negroes. Maybe then we wouldn't be in such a—"

"I don't think this should be discussed." Alexandra said firmly, looking away from Jean as a final indication that she was finished with the conversation.

Jean looked defeated, but at the same time it was as though she knew what the end result of that conversation was going to be. For a quick moment, Jack was filled with his familiar feelings of admiration for the girl, but quickly squashed them when he reminded himself what she had done to him. He noticed Atticus, who did not look embarrassed by the ordeal that just occurred, but rather _sympathetic._ "That's a shame," he said quietly to Alexandra, flashing her a small smile before returning to his meal.

The rest of dinner was full of an awkward silence that was sometimes interrupted by Alexandra attempting to ease the tension by bringing up stories of their childhood that neither Jack nor Atticus really acknowledged. Jack imagined that all Atticus wanted to do was to take Jean and leave the condescending scrutiny of Alexandra, just as Jack once again hide in the old, dusty study.

Jack tried to imagine what Atticus' reaction would be if he knew of what had happened between him and Jean, but he honestly found that to be a difficult task. In Jack's mind, Atticus always reminded him of knight—brave and unflinching when confronted with difficult tasks. He honestly didn't know what Atticus would do if he discovered that Jack was in love with the girl he brought home. Would he keep that in the past and move on with her? Would he break it off, sparing his brother's feelings? Would _he_ be hurt (Jack could never remember a time when Atticus had been hurt, which brought him some shame because he knew it had to have happened at least once)? His mind was spinning, and all he knew was that he _never_ imagined something like this happening to him.

He couldn't help but wonder if he was being selfish, feeling sorry for himself while Atticus seemed the happiest he had been in a long time. But, at the same time, Jack couldn't help but to think that he was justified in being jealous, justified in being angry over the fact that he felt so damn _used_.

He was going to be home for the next two weeks—maybe he could sit Atticus aside and tell him everything that had happened, tell him that there was the high likelihood that Jean was going to toss Atticus aside just as she did with Jack.

But, what if that wasn't her intention? What if she really loved Atticus in the way that Jack loved her? Would it be cruel to destroy something that could possibly make his brother's life better? At the same time, however, he wanted _her_ to suffer.

He almost didn't notice Jean and Atticus get up to leave. He wondered if she was staying somewhere in Maycomb (he wondered if she was staying with _him_ ) or if he was going to make the trek back to Montgomery at this late hour (would he stay with _her_ , then?). Alexandra stiffly hugged both of her guests before they both came to say goodbye to him.

Pretending to be cordial, he hugged her and as he did he whispered: "you're right, she _does_ hate you." It might have been malicious, but he didn't care.

It was _her_ turn to look hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: **I should warn that the end of this chapter might be a bit upsetting, but I tried to handle it tastefully (so sorry if I didn't!).** Also, I've had this chapter planned out for months now and I must say I'm a little disappointed with how I wrote it… I think since I started it so long ago it just didn't turn out to be the way I wanted it to be. Also the first half was written back in February and the second half written tonight, so if it flows oddly, that's why! There's going to be two or three more chapters of this, but they probably won't be posted until after I graduate on May 14 (unless these last month kills me).

-o-o-o-

It was almost as if Jack had forgotten that Atticus was his brother, the man who did more for him than any normal brother did. The man in which Jack had idolized and loved unwaveringly his entire life.

But, when Atticus announced that he and Jean were to be _married_ within the next year, it was like Jack had forgotten his own blood. He and Alexandra sat to the side as Caroline gushed over Jean and Atticus, apparently the only one excited that Atticus had _finally_ found himself a companion. Meanwhile, Jack couldn't help but to notice the sheer look of disapproval on Alexandra's face.

Naturally, Jack and Alexandra were furious for completely different reasons—she was not one to hide her dislike of the girl since their initial meeting, while Jack was being driven mad with his love for her. It was a constant theme of Jack's life to feel like an outsider, especially now. No one in his family could possibly understand what was going on inside his head.

It had only been a week since Jean first came to the Landing with Atticus, and since then Jack couldn't get her out of his mind. He was filled with the conflicting emotions of extreme love and extreme hatred, yet found himself wanting to do nothing more than shake sense into her. All at once he found her stupid yet clever, heinous yet irresistible and had the conflicting desires to both hold her in his arms and kill her all at once.

Jack knew that Jean could tell that both he and Alexandra were highly displeased, and while she maintained her composure, Jack could sense the panic settling into her eyes. On numerous occasions the two of them would make eye contact, only for her to quickly look away and chat with Caroline about silly things that were obviously used as a ploy to distract her from the looming eyes that were set her way. If Atticus was aware of the disdainful looks of his siblings, he certainly didn't acknowledge it. He looked happily at his youngest sister and his bride-to-be, occasionally interjecting himself in their conversations. For Jack, this amplified the distance between him and his family.

He wondered if Atticus _knew_. If he knew about the fact that Jean took advantage of the fact that Jack was hopelessly in love with her, that she used him for her own amusement and quickly discarded him once she realized she no longer wanted to toy around with him. Jack wondered how many others there were, how many other men fell under her charm only to be cast aside like a day-old newspaper.

He could do it, ruin everything once and for all. He felt his blood boiling as he imagined himself standing up in anger, revealing Jean for who she _really_ was—letting Atticus and Caroline know that this "perfect" little specimen was everything but the girl they thought she was. Alexandra's hatred would be solidified. The engagement would surely be over.

That would be the easiest thing to do, to rip Jean from Atticus like she had been ripped from him. But in the back of his mind he was still concentrated on having her, and by ruining this, he was ruining any wild chances he had.

But, how realistic were those chances? It was already quite evident that she was more interested in pretending like Jack had never once been a part of her life. Therefore, the easiest thing for him to do would be to destroy any chances of this marriage actually happening, to destroy Jean like she had destroyed him.

What would that mean for Atticus? In all his rage and anger, Jack seemingly forgot that Atticus was his own _blood_ , but that would mean that Atticus would surely choose his brother over the woman he would soon be calling his wife?

She had caught him staring at her and immediately turned pink. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed he was staring at her with such a look of discontent that it would give Alexandra a run for her money. He couldn't help but to notice that Jean looked so terribly uneasy, and had a sick sense of satisfaction that it was _he_ who was making her feel that way.

-o-o-o-

Dinner that night had been even more excruciating than it had been the week before. It drove him crazy the way she looked at Atticus, the way she effortlessly placed her hand on top of his while she animatedly talked to Caroline—every little thing the two of them did made him want to either scream or crawl out of his skin. Through his anger he couldn't help but to think that it should be _him_ who was next to her. That she should rest her hand upon _his_ , that she should be looking at _him_ with love in her eyes, not Atticus.

He found that the only way to keep him from going insane was to drink excessively, having lost count of how much scotch he drank after his third glass. He didn't care how it made him look—if he was expected to maintain a pleasant attitude during this damn dinner, he was going to need all of the help he could get.

"Jack?" Caroline asked abruptly, making him jump. Her eyebrows were raised and she looked perplexed.

"Huh?" He nearly grunted.

"I asked how you were doin'," she said slowly, her confusion turning to worry. "You seem a little out of it."

"I'm fine," he remarked. "Don't know why you would think otherwise."

"You haven't said a word all evening, dear." Caroline said smoothly, her eyebrows still raised—almost as if she was telling him to behave himself.

He shrugged. "Not much to say, I guess." His eyes caught sight of Jean, who had begun fidgeting uncomfortably next to Atticus.

-o-o-o-

After supper had ended and the family retired into the living room to continue their conversations, Jack excused himself by feigning a stomach ache. Instead of retiring to his childhood bedroom like he said he was going to, he once again sought refuge in his father's study. There he could sit in the silence of the cool, dark room and attempt to forget everything that had been going through his mind in the past week.

Despite the fact that the scotch he had consumed at dinner made him feel fuzzy, he continued to drink in an attempt to numb himself from everything going on. He couldn't stop his brother from marrying Jean, but what would Atticus think if he ever found out what had happened between him and Jean? It wouldn't only be shameful, but the possibility of Atticus even finding out could open floodgates that could change the dynamic of the Finch family for a long time.

After what seemed to be hours, the door creaked open, allowing in a flood of light that made Jack squint. At first he thought it was Alexandra or Caroline, coming to tell him to stop hiding and either go up to his room like he said or join the family. But it wasn't.

It was Jean.

From what he could tell at the distance he was at, she was crying. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glazed with tears, and the moment she saw him she rolled her eyes. "I thought you went upstairs," she said, her voice hoarse.

He didn't answer. She turned to leave, but stopped when Jack cleared his throat. Sharply, she turned around. She reentered the room and closed the door behind her. "So, this is how it's going to be?" She asked, trying to keep her wavering voice firm. "Not only do I have to be berated by your sister every time I see her, but I have to expect _this_ from you?"

He furrowed his brow as he drew closer to her. "You really think I'd be all sunshine and rainbows after what you did?"

"You smell drunk,"

"You look like a flustered child."

"You fight like a child."

"Are you really going to pretend like nothing's happened?"

"I am moving past this," she replied harshly. "I suggest you do the same."

"The only place you'll be moving is back to Montgomery when I tell Atticus—"

"Go ahead, he already knows."

It was almost as if Jack had been punched in the stomach. With those five words the breath was completely knocked out of Jack's lungs and he tried to struggle with the fact that _Atticus knew_ , and he didn't mention anything to his own brother. His _blood_. For all Jack knew, Jean could have lied about everything to make herself look better to Atticus. She couldn't possibly be able to explain to him how much Jack had loved her…how she had led him on only to crush every fiber of his being. Angrier than ever, he slammed his glass down on his father's old desk, making Jean jump.

"I've told him everything," she said, sounding as though her throat was tight. "I told him about every time we've met and what we did and—I had to! How could he trust me if he didn't know about every mistake I—"

"Obviously you didn't tell him everything or else he'd know how _cruel_ —"

"I didn't mean to!" She hissed, her face growing redder. "Jack, I was a _child_ , I was so incredibly _stupid_ —I told him _everything_ , even what you said last time. Jack I _told_ him how I hurt you and how it was a _mistake_ and—"

"He's a much more forgivin' man than I am," was all he could say.

" _Please_ Jack," she pleaded, giving him a sick sense of vindication. "Please just stop it already with the looks and the glares and actin' so unlike yourself whenever I'm around—I love Atticus just like you loved me and it would _kill_ me if something would happen and now I understand how you—"

She didn't understand. She could never understand how he felt because she didn't have the person she loved ripped away from her by the one person she trusted the most. She was secure and content in her engagement to Atticus all while Jack was forced to watch on the sidelines like some cruel joke. No, as long as Atticus understood and forgave her, she'd never understand the pain that she put Jack through.

He wasn't sure if it was all of the scotch in his system, or his sheer anger that possessed him to do what he did next. Suddenly he found himself grabbing her arm, causing her to tense up, growing more flustered by the second. "I don't feel bad for you," he whispered, sounding like a complete stranger to even himself.

"You're hurtin' my arm." She whispered, fear growing in her eyes. "Jack please, just let go."

Slowly, he released his grip on her arm. Just as the look of fear faded from her eyes, he grabbed her by her shoulders, planting his lips on top of hers. Despite the fact that her muffled screams could surely be heard from outside study, he didn't move.

She bit down on his lower lip as hard as she could, and as his warm blood filled his mouth he found himself yelping in pain and pushing her away as she continued screaming. "Why would you do that?" She shouted over and over again. Her eyes were wild with fear, his blood on her cheeks as she scrambled to make her way to the door. Before she could even get out the door flung open and Jack could see the figures of his sisters and brother in the doorway.

Stumbling and sobbing, Jean rushed to Atticus, hiding her face in his chest. Without thinking, Jack spat a pool of warm blood onto the hardwood floor, but he knew that wasn't the reason why his siblings looked so horrified.

"Jack," Alexandra said softly with a shaking voice. " _What did you do?_ "


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: The semester is FINALLY over (I can't explain how happy I am) and I have been able to bring some attention back to this. This chapter is a little rough (I started it a little while ago and once again forgot where I wanted to take it) and it's probably a little rushed, too, but hopefully I can end this story on a strong note (there's about two chapters left)!

-o-o-o-

Upon discovering what had happened, Atticus had quickly ushered Jean out of the Landing. He was straight-faced and pale, most likely ashamed of what his brother had done. He said nothing as he led the sobbing Jean past his sisters, who were for once completely silent with shock. The sisters didn't try to stop Atticus, who said absolutely nothing as he left the Landing, sharply closing the front door behind him. This all happened as Jack stood there, frozen as a statue and watching the events unfold as though he was not even in his own body.

After Atticus had left, Alexandra stared at him with a dark expression on her face. " _What_ ," she asked slowly, her voice shaking from shock and anger. " _Did you do_?" She asked again, wrapping her arms around her chest.

He hadn't even tried to explain himself to his sisters, who watched him with wide, worried eyes. Instead, he retorted with cheap insults and rude comments that were enough to even make Alexandra look as though she was going to cry. They had pleaded with him, to think about Atticus—to think about Jean and what he did. But he didn't want to think about it. He was full of shame and sorrow and anger and the emotions were quickly filling him up, making him feel as though he was about to crack. They couldn't possibly understand what had been going on in his mind, they didn't know the entire story—they would never understand.

So, instead of even trying to explain the only thing that Jack had been successful at was making his sisters feel almost as bad as Jean probably was.

After admitting defeat, his sisters eventually stopped trying to understand what had happened and instead retired for bed. They gave him sad and disapproving looks before they turned their backs to him and walked away, leaving him alone in the study once again.

He hadn't known who he had become. Initially, he blamed _her_. He blamed her for waltzing into his life and stealing his heart in the first place. He blamed her for waltzing back into his life on the arm of his brother and rubbing everything in his face. He blamed her for _existing_.

But he still could have controlled himself.

It was as though she was some sort of sorceress who entered his life and performed some spell that changed who he was entirely. It was as though whenever she was in his presence he turned into an entirely different person, a person his family wouldn't be proud of – a person _he_ shouldn't be proud of.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. The anger that he had been feeling towards _her_ for so long had transformed into a sick feeling of anger and hatred towards _himself_. This wasn't who he was! He was John Hale Finch, son of Jeremy Finch—a man who had been raised to be respectable, honorable and kind.

He most certainly wasn't those things any more. He had turned into a vicious, jealous monster who inadvertently damaged his brother's life. He turned into a petty being who would quickly blame anyone but himself for his actions. He had fallen victim to lust and his own selfish desires and became one of those people that Alexandra was so quick to judge. Hell, he'd become one of those trashy men that _he_ was so quick to judge.

What would happen, now? Would his sisters ever look at him the same? Would Atticus ever trust him again? What about _Jean_? All of his interactions with her will probably be awkward and spiteful for the rest of his life. He'd probably never see her or Atticus, with the exception of Christmas and the Finch family reunion, and even then he'd probably dread those occasions for years to come.

He had screwed up and he wasn't sure if he could fix it. A simple apology would not do the trick, he would have to _prove_ he was truly remorseful. Although he knew he'd come to regret this for the rest of his life, would he be able to convince his family? Would he be able to convince _her_?

-o-o-o-

"You were too drunk to get yourself into bed last night?" Alexandra's voice sneered, causing Jack to stir awake. He was in his father's old, stiff leather chair. His mouth was dry and his neck hurt from the angle he had been sleeping in.

Shamefully, he didn't answer.

"You don't need to speak." She sighed, crossing her arms. "I just thought I'd tell you that you should probably go back to Nashville."

"What about Christmas?" He croaked, his voice sounding like nothing more than a whisper.

"Caroline's left to go back to Mobile and Atticus isn't comin' anymore," his sister explained. "Jimmy and I are spending time with his mother instead."

Jack wanted to laugh, but didn't. Alexandra _hated_ her old mother-in-law.

"Jean broke off their engagement last night." Alexandra said bluntly. "Atticus is takin' her back to Montgomery today, and the poor thing has decided to spend Christmas _alone_." _Because of you_ , she should have added (though she didn't need to).

He felt his heart rise to his throat as he slowly sat up in the chair. "What?" He asked, although he didn't need any further clarification.

Alexandra let her arms drop to her side and her expression softened. "He didn't explain much," she said truthfully. "He just told me what had happened and that he wasn't feelin' up for Christmas." She gave Jack a sad look. "Listen, you don't need to go back to Nashville—you can come with us—"

He flashed his sister a pathetic smile. "And spend time with Jimmy _and_ his mother?"

"It's better than bein' alone."

"I think I deserve to be alone for a little while."

"I don't approve of what you did," she said, sounding as though she was struggling to find the right words to say. "I found it to be shameful and downright—"

"I already know this."

"I'm not finished." She replied starkly, scowling at him. "What you did was wrong and I'm angry about it, but you're still my brother and I love you."

He looked at her in shock, causing her to scoff at him. "You're actin' like I've never said that before."

"I think the last time you told me you loved me was when I was five." He stated matter-of-factly. He was trying to be funny, but by the look on her face he knew she wasn't amused.

"Maybe because you make it so difficult." She said. He knew she was trying to tease back, but he couldn't help but to think that there was a glimmer of truth in that statement. Realizing what she had said, Alexandra looked startled. "I didn't mean that."

"I know, Zandra."

She sighed again. "Heck," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Don't think of spendin' Christmas alone as a punishment – I'm surely jealous."

-o-o-o-

He was able to stay with Alexandra and her family for another full day before she had to leave to be with Jimmy's mother (for the first time in his life he saw his sister purposefully trying to be untimely). They had kindly dropped Jack off at the train station before departing for their own destination, but Jack didn't get on the train. Instead, he called himself a car to take him to Atticus' apartment in Maycomb.

If he didn't make things right now, he never would.

-o-o-o-

Atticus lived in a small, one-roomed apartment that was settled above some office in the middle of town and Jack had to climb up six flights of stairs in order to reach his final destination (he wasn't sure if it was his anxiety or the mere fact that he was out of shape, but he was incredibly out of breath by the third flight of stairs). At first, Atticus didn't answer when Jack knocked (actually _pounded_ ) on the door. He wasn't sure if Atticus was away from home or blatantly ignoring any guest who came by, but Jack would be damned if he left without at least _talking_ to his brother. After five minutes of silence, Jack assumed that Atticus was gone and reluctantly turned to leave.

"Hello?" He heard his brother's voice call out as he was halfway down the first flight of stairs. Quickly, Jack came back up to see his brother standing in the doorway. He was cleanly shaved and dressed in his usual slacks and vest, but something about him just looked so _defeated_. And, for the first time in his life, Jack found himself nervous in the presence of his brother.

For a few moments the two brothers stood in silence, taking in the sight of one another. "You look like hell," Jack muttered after what seemed to have been an eternity.

"I could say the same for you."

"Atticus," he began, not knowing exactly what to say to his brother.

"I don't need to hear anything," his brother responded, trying to smile (it looked more like a grimace). "What's done is done."

"I'm sorry—"

"You don't need to be."

"You don't mean that."

"I don't say anything I don't mean."

"There can be exceptions."

"I'm not one for those."

"You're angry—"

"Of course I am," Atticus said calmly. _Why was he always so calm?!_ "But I don't need an apology."

"What do you need?"

"I don't need anything."

"That's a lie."

"Jack, if it makes you feel better to apologize, then so be it." Atticus said. "But what's happened has happened and it would just be best if we moved past this."

Jack wasn't quite sure why he was so surprised by this. Atticus had always been the type to sweep his own personal problems under the rug and to move on from things as quickly as possible, so it shouldn't have been shocking that this was exactly what he was doing. "What happened?" Jack found himself asking. "I'll fix it, I'll talk—"

"I'm sure Jean would be appreciative if none of us spoke to her again." Atticus admitted. "I'm sure she'd like to move past this as well."

"But you were going to get _married_ —"

"We all must accept that things change."

"But—"

"Jack, it's _fine_." Atticus said firmly. " _I'm_ the one who made the mistake?"

"How—"

"I thought that we would all be able to move past everything," he admitted. "But I should've been wiser and ended things the moment she mentioned you—I didn't even think about you—"

"You've _always_ thought about me." Jack said, wanting to scream at his brother. "For once in your life you were thinking about what made you happy. _I'm_ the one who messed everything up, you should want to kill me right now."

"You're making this out to be a bigger deal than it is, Jack." Atticus said. "You're my brother, you come first—I'm afraid this entire ordeal was inevitable from the start."

Jack wanted to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake sense into him. Why was he always so calm, so willing to forgive and accept his brother despite of what had happened? How was he able to move past this and act as though everything was normal? This certainly was _not_ normal.

He wanted to apologize again. He wanted to tell his brother that this entire thing wasn't his fault. He wanted to vow that he'd go to Montgomery and beg Jean to not punish Atticus for something he had no control of. But he knew that Atticus would simply brush it off and tell Jack that he needn't worry or feel guilty, that everything was back to normal. And Jack did _not_ want that. "I understand," Jack said softly, looking away from his brother. "That's what I needed to hear, I guess." He lied.

Jack bade Atticus farewell in the doorway. His brother had offered him a ride to the train station, but Jack refused. Despite what Atticus had felt, Jack was still full of so much shame that he found that he couldn't see his brother again until he had made everything right.

And that is why he bought a ticket to Montgomery once he had gotten to the train station.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Finally making some progress on this! I just thought I should tell y'all (especially with the ending of this chapter) that there is ONE more chapter after this!

-o-o-o-

It wasn't until his train stopped at Montgomery that Jack realized he hadn't a clue what exactly he was going to do once he got there. While he had visited the city many times in the past and knew a handful of people there, he was unsure of whether any of his old friends knew where Jean lived. _He_ certainly didn't know where she lived. Christmas was only days away—what if she wasn't even in Montgomery? Quickly, Jack began to regret his decision to find her.

What would he even say to her when he found her? Would she even let him talk to her? What was he thinking coming here after all that he did?

Atticus. He was thinking about Atticus.

Despite the fact that his brother had been so calm the entire time Jack had spoken to him, Jack knew otherwise. Beneath his calm and composed exterior, Jack _knew_ that on the inside Atticus was upset. He knew that he had to fix this for his brother. This entire time he had failed to think about _Atticus'_ happiness and he needed to prove to his brother that he could fix this terrible mess that he had gotten everybody in.

If only he could find Jean first.

Awkwardly, he stood in the middle of the sidewalk for a few moments and felt like a complete fool. He had no clue where he was supposed to go or even who he was supposed to approach and was therefore left standing like an idiot in a city he was not entirely familiar with. He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he attempted to figure out what he was supposed to do.

"You lost, son?" A man asked. Jack had to stop himself from laughing, the man looked not much older than Atticus yet he was calling him _son_.

"Actually, yes." Jack responded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm not sure if you know her, but I'm looking for a Miss Jean Graham."

"I don't know her personally, but I sure do know her daddy!" The man exclaimed. "He just became judge not too long ago. I can bring you 'round his office if you'd like."

 _Just great_. Jack thought to himself. Seeing Jean was going to be tough enough—but seeing her _father_? Lord only knows what Jean had said about him to her father, but he was quite sure that Mr. Graham was _not_ going to like him. However, he was the only means of getting to Jean. Jack cleared his throat. "Um, yes, yes please." Jack responded inelegantly, stumbling over his words. "That'd be great."

"Are you an old friend of Miss Graham's?" The man asked after a few moments of silence as the two men walked down the sidewalk. Once again, Jack wanted to laugh.

"You could say so," he responded slowly. "I've done something…stupid, and I need to talk to her about it." He wasn't sure why he was alluding to what happened to some complete stranger who probably did not even care about what Jack was saying at all. "I just want…to make things right, I guess."

The man smiled at Jack. "Well, you look like a sincere man so I'm sure you'd be fine." He said (making Jack want to cringe) as the two of them stopped in front of an old brick building. "Judge Graham is on the second floor. I'm sure you'll be alright finding your way there."

"Thank you kindly," Jack responded, smiling at the man as he braced himself for what was to come. The man tipped his hat and smiled before walking away.

It wasn't until Jack was climbing the stairs that his heart began to pound with anticipation for what was to come. What if Jean had told her father _everything_ that had happened and the man hated Jack and refused to let him talk to his daughter? Would he be able to convince this man to look past everything that had happened in order to fix things for his brother? What if this man harbored ill will towards Atticus for whatever dumb reason? Suddenly, Jack was beginning to think that this was all a huge mistake.

But it was too late now. He was standing outside of Ambrose Graham's office.

Reluctantly, he knocked.

-o-o-o-

Evidently, Jean had failed to inform her father of _anything_ that had happened and had simply told him that she had ended her engagement with Atticus. The man was quite surprised to find Jack, who became clumsy and awkward with anxiety as he explained that he was very sorry for insulting Jean and desperately needed to talk with her in order to make things right. Mr. Graham did not request any further information from this stranger and instead claimed that Jack's nervous state granted him the rite of passage into the Graham household to speak to Jean.

If she let him, of course.

As the two men walked to Ambrose's home, Jack couldn't help but to wonder if Atticus had met this man, because was someone that Jack thought Atticus would like. He was a funny man, making quick remarks about different people that the two men came across on their walk home, but at the same time he had a sense of calmness around him that Jack knew Atticus would appreciate. As they approached Ambrose's home the older man looked at Jack and smiled. "I'm quite certain Jean is home," he said. "You can wait in the parlor while I retrieve her."

"Thank you, sir." Jack responded, trying to hide his nervousness as the two of them entered the house where Jack would learn that he did not need to wait long for Jean.

"How was work, daddy?" Jean's voice rang through the living room, though at first she was nowhere to be seen. Anxiously, Jack looked around the parlor, looking for _something_ to focus on that would calm his nerves.

"You know how it goes," Ambrose responded. "Each day is the same. Jean—you have a guest."

"A guest?" She called back and Jack could hear her footsteps approaching. "Who—"

It was almost as though her words got caught in her throat when her eyes landed on Jack. She stopped in her tracks, holding her breath as she simply stared at him. "Um," she mumbled, one of her hands flying to fix a piece of hair that had fallen astray.

"I understand this is Atticus' brother," her father said slowly, his eyes moving from Jean to Jack. "I'm not sure what's going on, Jean, but—"

"I don't have anything to say," she responded, folding her arms at her chest. Jack had expected her to sound angry, but instead there was a hit of sadness in her voice.

Jack remained silent. "You and I both know that isn't true," Ambrose responded with a chuckle. "The day you run out of things to say is the day I fall over dead."

Jean visibly cringed. "I don't have anything to say to _him_." She corrected, her eyes unable to meet Jack's. "Everything is over with."

"Jean Catherine Graham," Ambrose said sternly as Jean's cheeks flushed, making Jack feel even worse for her. "I've raised you better than to give up. Now I have things to attend to upstairs, but you must at least let this boy say what he needs to. I don't care if you're silent the entire time, he's traveled too far for this."

Her face grew redder. "Yes, daddy." She mumbled as Ambrose smiled at the two of them.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Finch." Ambrose said as he went up the stairs.

"Likewise." Jack murmured.

For a few moments, the two of them just stood there as the silence in the room made the air thicker and thicker. Jack almost felt as though he couldn't breathe, especially as he observed Jean. The girl who had been so intense and outspoken was now reduced to a red-faced and embarrassed girl standing in the corner of her father's living room. "Sorry." Jack mumbled, looking down at his feet.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she was examining something that was on her fingernail.

"Um," he cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair. "Listen, Jean, I-I… I really don't know what I was thinking," he began, but stopped. "Actually, I _do_ know what I was thinking."

Jean suddenly looked up. "I was thinking about myself and what I wanted and I ended up making you feeling uncomfortable and actually _hurting_ you and I can't even explain how sorry I am." He said, the words erupting out of him like a flood. "I was selfish and I understand you may hate me – you _should_ hate me, but you shouldn't take it out on Atticus. Jean, he loves you _so much_ and I saw him earlier and I could tell he was dying on the inside and I couldn't even imagine how you were feeling and I needed to tell you that the engagement doesn't need to be called off just because of _me_."

She remained silent, and despite the fact that she was now vigorously picking at the skin around her fingernails, her eyes were set upon him. "I was selfish," he said again. "I had some idea in my mind and acted impulsively but I promise I'll leave you alone. Even if you marry Atticus you'll never need to see me and it'll be like I don't exist, I promise—I'll do anything, I just want my brother to be happy… I want you and my brother to be happy."

Her finger was bleeding now, but she didn't notice. It wasn't until she caught him staring at the blood running down her hand that she thoughtlessly wiped it on the front of her white blouse. Sighing in exasperation, she had no choice but to shrug it off. "This doesn't fix anything," she said, trying to wipe the excess blood off of her finger with her other hand. Jack's heart dropped. She sighed again and looked at him with a blank expression. It wasn't until then that he realized that tears had been pooling around her eyes. "Trust me," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I've made my fair share of mistakes, I've done stupid things like you did."

"Then why—"

"I don't belong," she sighed, her voice cracking ever so slightly. " _You_ hate me, your sister hated me with everything she had in her, and everyone else was just so polite and fit into this label of what a perfect family is and _I don't fit into that_. I've tried to be everything your family wanted but it just didn't work." Suddenly, she looked exhausted, as though she had been fighting some sort of battle. Jack felt guilty—he could have made this easier for her, but naturally he made her feel even worse.

"I don't hate you," he whispered, looking down at his feet. "I was just bein' spiteful but I really don't hate you, and Alexandra can be difficult but if she sees how happy you make Atticus I swear she'll lighten up on you. What matters is that _Atticus_ loves you."

"That's what I told myself at first," she admitted, wringing her hands. "But I'm not sure if that's enough anymore. I think what happened with…with us just proved that this wasn't supposed to happen."

Jack's heart sank even further and instead of being filled with his usual feelings of anger towards Jean, he couldn't help but to feel bad for her. He never imagined this happening—him standing in front of her as she looked so anxious and cried about how things had transpired. He desperately wished for the ability to just turn back time, to make her feel more welcomed, to prevent this entire thing from happening.

"But," he said. "But, Jean—"

Tears welled in her eyes again, joining the ones she hadn't bothered to wipe from her face. "Jack," she said, her voice nearly at a whisper. "I just don't think it can work."

Again, he found himself wanting to shake her. He wasn't necessarily full of anger or rage, but he just wanted her to know that it _could_ work, that the only person who mattered was Atticus; not Jack, not Alexandra, not any other member of the family—just the two of them mattered. But looking at her, Jack knew that her mind was already made, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"Jean," he said again, trying to fight a sudden urge to hug her (the sight of a crying woman always made him feel slightly weak). "I'm sorry."

She sniffed and forced a smile. "Everything's behind us." She told him, and he found himself feeling sad. He was sad for her, but he was especially sad for Atticus.

"I'm glad," he lied. He sighed, looking around the room (he was trying to look at _anything_ but her—despite their resolution, her tears had not sopped). "I ought to go." He said, trying not to sound as grim as he felt.

"Would you like a drink before you go?" She sniffed. "I would offer you scotch, but we don't have any. Even if we did, I'm not sure if I'd trust you with it." It was a joke and they both knew it, but neither of them could bring themselves to smile.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Well, this is it! I decided to do this in a rather short and (maybe) sweet way rather than to drag it out. This was a rather interesting thing for me to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it! Since I'm beginning law school in the fall, I'm currently fairly certain that this summer might be the last time that I'm active (as a writer) on this site. So, I decided to put myself out there and say if any of you have any requests or prompts you'd like to see me write, I'll gladly do it! I want to write as much as possible this summer before my life becomes even more bogged down by school and *shudders* the "real world."

-o-o-o-

Weeks had passed, and at first Jack was still unsure of how he was supposed to live with himself.

On that dreary day in December, Jack had declined Jean's offer of a drink and instead made his way back to the train station where he would ultimately head off to Nashville. It wasn't the prospect of spending his first Christmas alone that depressed him, but rather the images of Atticus and Jean permanently burned into his head. Their reactions alone indicated to Jack that they still loved each other, yet because of Jack's foolish actions, nothing would ever come of it.

For the millionth time, Jack wished he had the possibility of turning back time. He'd turn the clocks back to June 1914, the month Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassination—and the month he first saw her. He would make it so he had never set eyes on her, never fell in love with her, and never broken her heart.

The Jean he encountered in her father's living room had been a completely different person than the Jean he had met that June. The wild girl of eighteen-years-old had transformed into a woman who was trying her best to be a lady for a family who simply didn't appreciate her. And now, after trying her best, she had transformed into a sad old maid.

But she was only twenty-two.

The train ride to Nashville was long and tedious and gave Jack enough time to drown in his guilt and think of all of the ways that this could have been prevented. He could've been nicer, first of all. He didn't have to allow himself to be overcome by anger and his own desires and could have instead accepted his fate and treated Jean with the upmost kindness and hospitality. That would've been a great start. He didn't need to wallow in self-pity and drink all of that scotch. He didn't need to come onto her when she told him time and time again that this was not what she wanted.

But he had never listened to rational thought at all. Not until it was too late, at least.

Christmas had been spent once again drowning himself in scotch and regret (though this time he made sure to do this alone). Caroline and Alexandra called him, but he didn't hear from Atticus, which he guessed what was to be expected.

Would Atticus ever talk to him again?

Even as the weeks passed, Jack couldn't find it in himself to feel better about the entire situation. He had tried his hardest to talk to both Atticus and Jean, to get them to see how he had faulted and how it shouldn't have affected their relationship but to no avail. It made him think he should do more, work harder, somehow manage to get it in their heads that this entire thing was a huge mistake.

It didn't help that he still loved her.

He thought that seeing what his actions did to Atticus and Jean would stop him from feeling any sort of love and affection towards her—but he was surprised (and disappointed) to discover that his heart still fluttered when he thought about her, that she frequently crossed his mind at any time during the day and that the mere thought of her sent him through a tailspin of emotions. Seeing her at her home in Montgomery only led him to admire her more—the fact that she was not ashamed to allow herself to be vulnerable, to allow herself to be so open in front of him when before she had often been cool and distant.

He forced himself to stop these thoughts.

Not only would it never happen, but he would never _let_ it happen. She was meant to marry Atticus, and although he knew this, it didn't stop him from being enamored by her captivating and complex personality. This was something he had to live with, he figured, and he was determined to move past this entire ordeal.

In the time that passed since the incident in Maycomb, Jack decided to focus his attention on other things. For starters, he stopped drinking the copious amounts of scotch he had become so friendly with that past. He started to study to become a surgeon – only to quickly realize that it was far more than he bargained for and quickly stopped. He made friends with the other doctors he worked with. He even went on a few dates.

He began moving on.

However, it was easy for him to do that when he was in Nashville and he wasn't quite sure that he'd be able to say the same the next time he returned to Maycomb. However, he wasn't even sure when he'd be coming home next—the moment he arrived in Nashville he had made the decision that he wouldn't go back to Maycomb unless someone in his immediate family died. After everything that had happened, he wasn't quite sure that it would be appropriate for him to come back home for a while.

"Everything's fine, sweet." Alexandra had said one evening in mid-January when she was performing her weekly call. "You don't need to worry about…anything else happening."

He had merely shrugged her off, not knowing what to think.

He was beginning to think that maybe he was the black sheep among his siblings. He was far different than his other siblings, far more destructive. He was like some ticking time-bomb that threatened to damage the impeccable image of the Finch family. Sometimes, he couldn't help but to wonder where he had gone wrong.

As January turned to February, Jack began to _finally_ accept everything that had happened. With the passage of time he realized that he needed to move on from everything in the past and to accept that there were simply things that were beyond his control. _You've tried your best_ , he tried to convince himself time and time again.

Soon enough, he began to believe himself.

He was even able to push the past out of his mind for the time being, until late one Wednesday night at the end of February, his phone began to ring. Groggily, he pulled himself from his bed and walked to his phone-box. "Hullo," he murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Sir, you've got a call coming in from Montgomery, Alabama." The operator said (he always wondered how they stayed so perky so late at night). "Would you like to accept it?"

He nearly jolted awake. "Um, yes I do." He said, a hint of confusion in his voice. He waited a few minutes for the lines to connect. "Hello?"

"You've talked to her," the voice on the other line said. It was Atticus.

"Atticus?"

He cleared his throat on the other line. "Jean told me you talked to her, back in December."

Jack felt as though his heart stopped. He inhaled deeply, holding his breath while trying to figure out what to say. "Atticus, listen," he began before stopping in his track. "Wait, what are you doin' in Montgomery so late?"

He swore he heard his brother chuckle on the other line. "Well," he began. "I came down here for the legislature—"

"I see," Jack interrupted. "And you ran into her and—"

"She actually…well, she hunted me down." His voice sounded lighter, Jack realized it was as though nothing had even happened between any of them.

"Oh," Jack said, still sounding confused. "And she told you I saw her."

"And she told me she saw you."

"I'm assuming by the tone of your voice that everything went well," Jack stated. "Or that things went horribly and you're so past the point of desperation you can't help but to laugh." Jack didn't know what possessed him to say that, and he prayed for the life of him that Atticus wouldn't find it in any way offensive.

He laughed.

"It went well, Jack."

Jack smiled to himself. "Well, is the wedding back on?"

Atticus coughed. "Actually," he sounded nervous. "We've eloped." Jack couldn't help but to burst into laughter.


End file.
